Whatever it Takes
by CeaSoul
Summary: He'd hoped it was over, that what he'd done and what had happened would never catch up to him. Pretend everything is fine, put on a show to misguide those you befriend. But you can only hide behind green eyes for so long, everything catches up eventually. Now, he can either earn their trust, or face what will be the end of him. Rating subject to change. Warnings Inside.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: Everyone, at some time, has done something they grow to regret. Sometimes, they had a choice, other times they did not. Tim is seen as the "probie" even after Ziva has come along, provoking teasing of what is a somewhat friendly nature. Yet, there is more to the agent than meets the eye, no one sees what lies behind emerald eyes. When a case brings up events of old, can Tim protect what he cares about, and will his team protect him? After all, how can you trust someone who isn't what they seem?**

 **Warnings: This is crime so expect blood, light swearing, and any other barrage of injuries and drama. Any major warnings will be posted on its relevant chapter.**

 **A/N: I should specify that by "What they seem" I don't meet supernatural or anything, I mean personalities. I also want to say, any feedback is welcome. I've never really tried to write for NCIS until now, and I'm hoping to be able to learn to write these characters well. They all have interesting personalities and I thoroughly would enjoy to put them into all sorts of scenarios. Without further ado, onto the show.**

* * *

 _He was running, sprinting away from what he had just done, it was better than to face the facts of the decision he'd made. The echoing bang of a gunshot was plenty enough a reminder on its own. He knew he wouldn't be caught, and he wasn't sure if he was afraid of being caught anyway or admitting he thought what he did was right. He was only 23, and he'd lost everything, no one would suspect him of this crime._

 _The man himself was a murderer, he achieved to him what he was due. That special pit in Hell had opened to swallow him whole. It was his fault his parents were gone, his fault his sister and brother were missing, and it was his fault his life had fallen apart as it has. He wasn't sure where to go from here, school can only distract him for so long. Police officer maybe? At least then he could gain the ability to legally shoot someone. He could join the Marine Corps, but he wasn't sure when that's what his father pushed him for all his life. He clenched his fist at the thought of his father and kept running as the rain started._

 _The gun wasn't his, it was his brothers, and he had already skipped town when this all began. None of it would have come to this if not for the people his brother was involved with, if not for the drug dealing and money stealing. He made sure every piece of evidence he couldn't clean up pointed to him, and he didn't feel sorry for it._

 _Rather, he realized, he didn't feel much of anything. He'd run to the old park his mother took him to as a child, to find comfort and solace on that old swing. The metal had rusted and faded away with time, the wood falling apart and splintering. He gently traced the markings on the wooden stand, where he and his sister had once carved their initials. It was far too worn to see them anymore, but he still remembered it._

 _He recalled every joyous day spent here, running and playing tag. The corners of his lips twitched upwards at the memories he once cherished so. The times he would convince her to play cops and robbers, or the time she wanted to wrestle him. He then frowned, growing angry as he realized those memories were all he had left of any sense of normalcy. He threw a fist forward without thinking, fracturing the splintered wood and cutting his knuckle wide open. He did this with his left fist as well, once for anger and once for grief._

 _He knew his mother would be disappointed in what he had done, and he wasn't sure he could blame her. In the back of his mind he recognized he was blind with grief and rage, constricted with regrets and unspoken apologies. Apologies for being a reckless child, too stuck in his own head to recognize what people needed from him. Apologies for what he'd done, and what he's become._

 _His mind tossed and turned as he sat on that old swing, looking for some sense of being that he'd lost with his mother's last breath. Some sense of a being that was swept away with the blood and sorrow of what he witnessed. He couldn't lock onto anything but one conversation he took away from more than he ever had. Even then, it was twisted with the darkness and pain that swam in his mind, the words coming from the last thing he had seen of her instead of what had been._

 _He'd only been in the 3_ _rd_ _grade, and he'd punched a boy for picking on a girl in the class. It was before he became the joke of classes, he'd still had somewhat of a need to protect others, and something he still had deep down. His mother was not disappointed with him, instead she'd sat him down and explained why he can't go around doing things like that. He'd understood, he'd known it was wrong from the second he chose to throw that punch. It was what she'd said afterwards that he chose not to forget, something he chose to keep as a sort of test of actions he committed._

" _Sometimes, Timothy, people do all the wrong things, for all the right reasons."_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I'm excited that I've already got some people interested with just the tid-bit for a prologue. I love replying to reviews as well, so that will be done up here as well :P As for a side note, I decided to make him even darker than originally. This was going to be a piece to start a character basis for my next works but, I think this will be a standalone. We'll see. There will be GLARING differences in this, but that's my point. It's an AU but I'm trying not to have it too overdone. Oh, and don't worry, no more italics after this for a bit.**

 **RuneWulf: I thank you for reviewing; Tim is meant to still be an NCIS agent as he has been, but I've always wondered what If the boy was hiding something. As for preventing that, well, we'll have to see won't we? This will be a definite change from the McGee we know and love, much more of a hard-ass and not so gullible looking.**

 **Nikkiesplace: I love twisting stories of people, and I'm going to try my best to update consistently, don't worry. I want this to be a long story, and I especially love them when it's deep and dark. I might put Tim through hell on this one.**

* * *

 _3 years after the incident, age 26_

 _He'd gotten involved with his classwork, more so than any person should, for the sake of health and sanity. Albeit, he was pretty sure he'd already lost the latter. It'd left him empty, in a sort of mind-numbing coma, and he didn't know how to cope._

 _He was excelling in his courses, he'd found his passion to lie in computer technology, he'd looked into both programming and computer forensics. He'd even learned how to break into other people's things, backdoor access, Wi-Fi connections, anything._

 _He laid back on the pillow behind him, staring into the dark as he heard his roommate's snores from the bunk below. He spent his nights trying to remember that day; he remembered the man, and the gun, but he swore there was more. Sometimes he wished he hadn't tried to block it out so badly._

 _He wasn't sure what made him who he was anymore; he'd been the family man, the one who looked out for his little sister. Now, he hadn't even seen her in years, with no idea where she'd gone or what had become of her. His brother, well, he'd begun to pretend he didn't have one. He sighed, rubbing his eyes, loving the feeling when he was stressed._

 _Who the hell was he anymore?_

* * *

 _5 years after the incident, age 28_

 _Timothy, that was his name, thought right now he didn't care for much else. He called for another shot as he took a look at the other patrons around. He knew he shouldn't be doing this, but he wasn't sure what else to do. He should be out getting a job, instead he's here drowning his sorrows, maybe hoping he'd get lucky. His buddy ditched him ages ago, leaving off with some girl he'd never seen before._

 _He'd started this a little more than a year ago, but he was sure he'd drank enough alcohol to be considered for alcoholics anonymous. Still, didn't stop him, not when he kept him from remembering. He'd come to recalled flashes of memory; that is wasn't one gunshot he ran from, that it wasn't the simple thing he thought it was. That he wasn't as safe from that. He laughed to himself, getting brief looks from the others in the bar. He was sure that murderers didn't feel like this, that they didn't go try to forget about it. Hell they probably embrace it, and are proud of it._

 _But he couldn't, all he saw was his father, his mother, and god that man. But he couldn't have done it alone…could he? He didn't care, he just wished he could forget the blood on his hands. Sometimes in his dreams it was him who did it, the man patting him on the back, telling him there was more to do now. Sometimes, he forgot what dreams were, and what his reality was._

 _He left the bar, the lights blurry and the sounds falling on deaf ears. He sat alone in his darkened apartment and sent in his job application, he knew he could only do it in his drunken state. He'd never have the courage otherwise._

* * *

 _8 years after the incident, age 31_

 _He'd been working at Norfolk for a little less than 2 years, his working out he started 5 years prior paying off. They went through his background thoroughly, but were unable to investigate the sealed files without going through mounds of interviews and paperwork. He was their tech guy mainly, paperwork and fixing the computers before someone physically punched one, but he was happy. He hadn't touched alcohol in over a year, growing a taste for coffee instead. He was content where he was, and that's more than he had been before._

 _The first time he went to the NCIS headquarters, he figured he must have looked like a deer in headlights. He'd only been there to fix one of the cyber-crimes computers, the local IT man too busy to get around to it, but he loved seeing it. He'd heard the rumors, about the man in MCRT no one talks back to and his team, a movie critic and a former secret service member. He knew they were rumors, and he never caught a glimpse of them, but he made sure he'd go back._

 _The second time he went, he was involved with their forensic scientist. He was only supposed to be picking her up, but he found himself finding excuses to stick around, to see how this team fared against rumors he was told. It was then he learned their names from Abby; Leroy Jethro Gibbs, Kate Todd, and Anthony DiNozzo Jr. He saw them working, and he knew he wanted to do the same thing, he just didn't know how._

 _The third time he went, it was his last time. He found every reason to stay around, from working on Abby's computer to working on wiring in the Bullpen's TV and computers. He insisted it would speed up things, but he knew it wouldn't make a noticeable difference. He just wanted to stay. When Gibbs handed him a file, he thought the man was joking with him. One look told him otherwise and he opened it up to see the application._

 _The entire thing was filled out, an application for transfer to full time field agent, a signature from Gibbs and everything. All it was missing was a signature from the agent, Timothy McGee. He looked up and saw Gibbs staring at him, expression unreadable._

" _If you want it." Was all he said before turning back to his desk._

 _Tim was ecstatic, and he finally forgot everything, all the bits and pieces he remembered. This was where his life started, even if it was at the bottom._

* * *

 _10 years after the incident, age 33_

 _Losing Kate was a blow felt through all of NCIS, most of all between himself, Gibbs, and Tony. Gibbs blamed himself for not seeing the sniper, feeling his own training should have told him, that Kate shouldn't be dead. Tony blamed himself, feeling he never gave her the time of day she really deserved, unable to forget the sight and the feeling of the blood because Kate shouldn't be dead. Timothy blamed himself before he knew the shot was meant for him, the sniper casing dug into the car where his head had been before he move from the shooter beside him, the sniper turning to Kate because of him. Tim always told himself Kate shouldn't be dead, that maybe it would fix it. Yet, it never did._

 _He could see Tony staring at the desk where she sat, and he would find himself doing the same. It was quiet, after they dispersed the drawings they found she made. No one knew, but that night he took the drawing of himself she made home. He took some pins and hung it up on the wall next to his typewriter, a reminder of a fallen comrade. He missed her greatly, but he'd never tell anyone that._

 _It was the first time in ages he wanted a drink, but he didn't. He opted for coffee and sat in the out cove of his window with the mug. He almost didn't want a new teammate, but he had a funny feeling that Gibbs would make the right call. When that would be, he didn't know._

 _He found himself looking over at the drawing again, and then thought of something he wanted to write. For a fleeting moment he considered it for his book, but he decided it was more important than that. He dug out a post-it note and stuck all four corners down with tacks next to the drawing with his thought on it._

' _To leave an imprint behind in the souls of others, one can never really die, they can only continue reminding of how special life is.'_


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Forgive me if the dialogue is…off, it's not my strong point, but I'm working to improve. I am in desperate need of a beta reader, so if anyone is interested by all means message me! I'm putting the reviews at the end this time, hopefully it'll be a bit cleaner. Also apologize how I wrote Ziva in this chapter, getting her to portray emotions is like pulling teeth.**

* * *

 _14 years after the incident, age 40, Current day._

It started out as a peaceful day, or rather, as peaceful as one can say the Bullpen gets. Tim was at his desk, working on a new firewall program after recent outbreaks of cyberterrorists. The system wide one was out of date and in need of desperate TLC. McGee was making plenty of progress when he was broken out of reverie, quite rudely so.

Tony made sure his arrival was never quiet, grinning with a fuming Ziva in tow. His bag dropped and made a very loud _thud_ against the floor and Tim looked up, quite annoyed with the loud display.

"I do not understand what exactly you think is so funny about this, Tony!" Ziva growled out her words, and Timothy was pretty sure she had smoke billowing out of her ears.

Ziva spun toward him after he let out a slight snicker, but didn't get a chance to speak before Tony was laughing.

"Lighten up Ziva, it was entirely in good nature. Not that it isn't good blackmail, but that's not the point."

McGee raised an eyebrow at this, "Tony what exactly did you do?"

"I found out who our lovely ladies boyfriend is," He grinned as Ziva looked ready to knock him on his ass, "He's quite handsome actually, though, not as good as me."

"You are a very shallow and narcissistic person, Tony."

"That I am Ziva, but better to embrace what you have then deny it."

 _Thwack!_

"Then embrace the job you have DiNozzo and admire yourself on your own time. Got a dead Marine, alley way of 5th and willow."

The team quickly grabbed their packs before getting in the elevator to the garage. Tim vaguely recognized the address, but he couldn't place why. He gave a call to Ducky as he got in the back with Ziva, informing him and Palmer of the new case, giving them time to respectively grab their gear and hop in the ME van.

Tony was driving, with Gibbs riding shotgun. Tim looked at Ziva next to him, curious as to why she was so upset about Tony's joke.

"McGee, if you have a question do not poke around the brush, just ask."

Tim sighed with a smile, "its beat around the bush, Ziva. And it's used when a person is avoiding answering a question."

She frowned, "Yes, but, is that not what you are doing at this moment?"

"He means avoiding the question during conversation, doesn't work if neither of you were talking.

Gibbs raised his head threateningly, aware he couldn't head-slap the SFA for fear of him going off the road.

"Focusing on the road, got it."

Ziva shook her head and turned back to Tim, "That is not my point, what is bothering you McGee?"

Tim fully intended to ask about the joke Tony pulled but what came out instead was, "Is this address familiar to you?"

"No, I do not believe I recognize it from any previous cases," She raised an eyebrow at him, "Do you recognize it McGee?"

Before he could respond Gibbs saved him, "Whether or not he does we'll check later. Right now, we have a dead body to worry about."

They were silent for the rest of the ride, Tim wondering why Gibbs had chosen then to speak up. Quickly enough they came upon the crime scene, yellow tape and police keeping back bystanders with camera's making it obvious. Jumping out, the four went around to the back to gather their gear. None of them said much as they flashed their badges, heading towards the body. It was then that Ducky and Palmer arrived.

"I told you, Mr. Palmer, that it would have been quicker to take a left a mile back."

"Yes, but, the crime scene was east of that off turn so it really would have set us ba-"

Jimmy cut himself off as he saw the glare Gibbs was giving him, "I-I'll go get the gurney."

As he took off back toward the van Ducky sighed, walking and kneeling next to the body.

"Well, what do were have here?"

McGee looked down as the finger print scanner finished, "Gunnery Sergeant Michael Heplow, first class, no previous criminal record"

Gibbs nodded before turning to Ducky, who was just finishing with the liver probe, "What can you tell me Duck?"

The older man looked down at the device before answering, "Time of death appears to be around 05:00 to 07:00 this morning. This is very recent. Jethro. As for cause of death, as far as I see it was the two shots he received, one to the head and the other into his heart. Of course, I cannot confirm until the autopsy."

"Alright, keep me updated."

McGee watched them roll the body off, unable to shake a feeling odd Dejà vú. He couldn't ponder long before Ziva and Tony came back over. Tim returned to photograph the scene as he listened to them.

"The woman over there with the dog says that she is the one who called the LEO's in. I asked her if she knew the man or how he ended up her but she insists she doesn't. I don't understand how when she says she lives in the complex right there." Tony points directly across the street, the building looking about 5 stories tall, "How is it no one at least heard something?"

"I do not know, the two men I spoke to claim they did not see or hear anything either. I do not get how someone can be shot and no one hears." Ziva was obviously suspicious of the whole situation.

Gibbs eye the alley wall, seeing the spray pattern matching where the victim was shot at, "The blood splatter matches, this is where the murder took place, so how the hell did witnesses not witness anything!" It was more a statement than question, and obvious indication the man was not in the best of moods today.

McGee spoke up from where he was photographing a shell casing, "Got a bullet over here, looks like a 9mm, Abby can tell me if I'm wrong. As for the 'witnesses' maybe their hiding something? Could be blackmail or something of the same idea." He quickly bagged and tagged the bullet, frowning but stayed quiet as he couldn't find a second. Tim thought for sure both shots were through and through when he saw the body, but maybe he was mistaken. McGee stood and took shots of the splatter, marking he was indeed correct at his assumption they had been through and through. The wall had no signs of any holes in them, and he was positive the second casing wasn't on the ground, so where did it go? Bullets don't grow legs and walk themselves to a new gun.

"I believe Tony would be a good one to ask about blackmailing tactics." Ziva spoke up, still obviously annoyed by whatever Tony had done.

Tony didn't say anything, instead he was staring at someone behind the tape. Gibbs noticed too, watching the man carefully. He was tall, about 6'3", with a black hoodie covering his head and face. The sunglasses obscured the rest of what would have been seen. He noticed them watching before turning away, briskly leaving the scene.

"Tony, find out who that man was, or at least get a description from someone there. I guarantee someone looked at him."

He nodded before heading off to talk to the witnesses again as they packed up the van. Gibbs was already looking somewhere else though, another man in the shadows. He stood back, but he wasn't looking at him, rather his eyes seemed to have wandered elsewhere. Gibbs followed his direction, finding himself looking at McGee. The younger agent seemed to be unaware he was being studied, seemingly comfortable as many bystanders typically observe. Gibbs never fell into the ease of this though, hence why his rules exist.

Rule #35: Always watch the watchers, and currently his was watching the young agent closer than someone should, almost seemingly frowning. As he walked towards him the man finally noticed, and Gibbs caught a glimpse of what one could describe as unadulterated anger. He turned his back and left, leaving Gibbs to decide to chase or not. He chose not to, knowing he could get a clear BOLO, not doubting his own memory.

Tony returned with no new info, once again raising suspicions because surely _somebody_ looked at him. McGee was already busy with research on his cell when Ziva recalled their conversation to the forefront once back in the van, returning them to the Navy Yard.

"McGee, you never told me if you had indeed been familiar with that place or the victim."

Tim glanced up at her before returning to the phone, "No, I was mistaken. Familiar looking yes, but not familiar enough to have been there before. As for Michael, he looks strikingly similar to someone I once knew it all."

"Those are very peculiar..." Ziva froze, considering a word, "coincidences, if I must say McGee."

He pondered a response, deciding instead to stare incredulously. This lasted for a solid five minutes before he surrendered, opting to return his attention back to his phone.

Ziva was about to ask again, but decided against it as they pulled into the garage. She knew something was off with the man, but she couldn't put her hand on it. Or finger. She nearly berated herself out-loud for correctly her own American grammar. Ziva didn't know what was wrong with McGee, but she was determined to figure it out. That is, if anything was wrong at all, she never was sure with him.

* * *

It had been a good two hours, silent except for Tony's occasional wise-cracks of jokes, or Tim's random comments from what he was reading. Ziva was quietly reading the document she had from the FBI Archives that was faxed over, Tony was reading through what could be assumed was Heplow's family files, and McGee was searching phone and financial records. Gibbs had disappeared for a while, and returned looking peeved, briskly walking into the room.

"Update." He watched as his agents obediently gathered around the flat screen, Tony with the clicker in hand.

Tony started, pulling up Heplow's Minnesota license and military ID, "Michael Heplow, First class gunnery sergeant, age 32. Enlisted in the Marine Corps at age 24, both parents are deceased, never been married and has no children. Supposedly he has one brother, Arthur Heplow, but he dropped off the map a few years ago."

"Heplow has no formal criminal record," Ziva stepped in, taking the clicker and pulling up some documents from the FBI, "although I did find a case where he was a lead suspect. Heplow was suspected of drug sales, but the FBI did not find probable cause for arrest. All evidence was circumstantial and he was never tagged, the reports say he had an airtight alibi. He stayed on the FBI radar since, and they continued to look for a way to get the evidence needed. It was suspected he had a smuggler working as a link between Cuba and America for him, and they were hoping to break the whole chain."

It was McGee's turn, who sat back down at his desk and used his computer to pull the phone records up onto the screen, "Phone records show three calls made within what we assume were the 24 hours before his murder. One call was to a local business named 'Heather's Florals', and two were to a cell belonging to a man named Andrew Langston. Doing a quick social media on Langston turned up no information, so either he stays off the grid, or it's not his actual name. Most people nowadays at least have a LinkedIn profile, even if it's outdated."

He paused, bringing up the financial statements from the bank, "Nothing was suspicious on the financial end, or it wasn't until you go back two months ago. Within a three week period, four deposits were made, each for fifty-thousand dollars." McGee tapped his keyboard, highlighting the four deposits, "I don't think he suddenly received two hundred-thousand from the Marine Corps, and as far I can tell he wasn't in financial trouble. Nothing would warrant a family member or even friend giving him help in that regard. My theory is if the FBI was correct his money would be in an offshore account, probably under a false name. This was just once case of him transferring money into his local account. There could be more, but the bank only has statements for the past 6 months."

Gibbs frowned at the information he was receiving, "Find me Langston." His answer was short, mind running as he went to head down to Autopsy.

During McGee's spiel Tony had made his way to his desk after hearing the name Andrew Langston, "Hey Boss, I think I've got something."

Gibbs paused, turning around back to the screen as Tony pulled up a newspaper article and a yearbook photo of a football team.

"Andrew Langston went to the same High school as Michael Heplow, both were on the football team. I recalled reading it, but didn't think much of it, there's like 23 people in the photo. Except, it caught my attention because," He took a moment and zoomed in on the article, "Andrew Langston was killed in a car accident his senior year. Autopsy determined he was killed on impact, blunt force trauma to the skull. It was later confirmed Langston was far over legal limit at the time, a lack of seatbelt sent him head first into the dashboard. This would explain why McGeek didn't find anything; it was a hell of a long time ago, and the kid doesn't exactly seem the tech type."

Ziva frowned, "Then, who exactly is our Andrew Langston? It is possible it could be a man of the same name but..."

"Rule 39 Ziver." Gibbs fully turned and left this time, heading for autopsy, "Tony, Ziva, get out to his apartment and see what you can find. McGee, get me a location on this Langston, or get me a name. I want to know who he is and why he's using a dead man's name of all things."

McGee turned back to his computer, starting a trace on 'Langston's' cell phone. He was quickly informed the phone was off, so he set it to continue searching, wanting to be informed when it was turned on and tracked down.

As Tony and Ziva left, the latter smiling as she was going to get her chance to berate Tony more, he set about his next task. He pulled up any and all acquaintances or close friends of Heplow's to see if he could find anyone who might seem involved in something dirty with the marine. While searching through names of fellow marines he found a name in common from somewhere else he had read before giving the update.

He quickly pulled up a list of people involved in the case Heplow was a suspect, finding a match to a Petty officer named Peter Fent. It was no wonder he hadn't flagged it, he had just been another suspect in the drug smuggling case, but wasn't suspected of dealing with Heplow. McGee found himself doubting that assumption so he decided to research it himself. He typed the name into the military database and nearly choked at the image it pulled up with the records.

The man was a spitting image of someone he didn't think was even alive anymore, a cruel joke to the real Andrew Langston if _he_ stole that name. McGee struggled to read the military record in front of him without having a near panic attack. According to the record, he was dishonorable discharged at the age of 33 four years prior, making him currently 37. The official report was he kept picking fights with other Marines, seriously injuring one when their fight got out of hand

 _'God dammit,'_ McGee thought, ' _even the age and personality is right.'_

He wasn't prepared to go to Gibbs with the information, not quite yet. Tim wasn't sure it was a conversation he wanted to get into at this very moment, not without getting to process it first. Rather, he collected as many documents and files on this 'Peter Fent' as he could, preparing a case file to take to Ducky for profiling. Knowing full-well that Gibbs was still down in autopsy, he took a minute to lean back and calm his frayed nerves, now wasn't the time for this. How exactly was he going to explain to his boss there was a _lot more_ to this case then they thought there was, and how was he going to explain how he _suddenly knows the FBI was on a tail of something_ _big_?

And more importantly, how the hell was he going to explain he was staring down a photo of the brother he hadn't seen in over 14 years, with a name that isn't his? Neither of the names, to be exact, were his. How was he supposed to explain this situation to his Boss in a suitable manner? Especially without going down a path that should never be traversed again, a rabbit hole straight to hell.

 **Reviews-**

 **Nikkiesplace DS2010: The integration into NCIS was a bit challenging to write as I like to assume he'd struggle, not be someone to kill in cold blood with no remorse. I think episode 3x10 is a good example of this, he did not handle it very well. So, I sort of exaggerated that and well, that's where it ended up.**

 **Runewulf: The speedy aging was mainly me trying to hastily get the integration out, a mistake on my end. I'd go back and rewrite it but I think I'm sticking to my original plan, which will become clearer later on. Hopefully this chapter makes up for that lackluster piece.**

 **Smartkid37: I thank you for this compliment, I'm a personal fan of your works and am very shocked my story caught your attention. I do hope I don't disappoint.**


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